


A is For...

by hoshiko2kokoro (hoshiko2)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoshiko2/pseuds/hoshiko2kokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A might be dead, but his desire to protect Arthur might just be enough to make him remember how to be alive.<br/>(Warm Bodies AU. I DO NOT OWN THE ORIGINAL STORY. Warnings for violence, death, and zombies.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life is funny in a way in that it leads you on until you die. Well, sometimes. I didn't, and now I just wander around in an airport wondering why I didn't shrivel up, or just get my brains eaten like the rest of humanity. So I spare others this kind of life… or, um, death? Zombie life? Is that a phrase? If not, I'm coining it.

Not like it matters. There aren't a lot of living people left to care, so that means my phrase probably won't get far in this world. Not having a lot of living left kind of sucks, for a lot of reasons, but mainly, well, I think they're good and interesting; good as in tasty. Sorry, I am still a zombie. These thoughts happen.

Still think they're interesting. Whatever isn't dead is interesting to me.

I didn't introduce myself, but then again, I kind of can't. See, I don't remember. Like all of my memories before I died, I've lost it. Sad, I know, but things like _needing_ to know what made me or the others into a zombie aren't important anymore. Nothing really is. If I had a family still and knew about them, I doubt I'd even think of them as important. It's not a sad fact or anything; it's just the way this world is now.

The only thing that _is_ important, well, more essential, is eating. And yet, I'm the weirdo. I like to collect mementos and hoard them in my home. It could be anything from a toy train to a snow globe. They were once precious items to someone that is probably dead, or more likely a zombie. Their feeling of life is still deep in their inanimate objects. I want to know what it is so I can feel the same sort of attachment to all of the things I have.

Recently I've begun to collect comic books. Zombies can't read, but I like the pictures. The characters are so bright and seem so cool. They're so powerful. I'd like to fly or shoot lasers from my eyes, but I'm just dead and constantly thinking. I try to tell myself that I'm immortal, but that's not a great super power. I can't even talk.

Besides, I _can_ die. One good shot to the head and no more me. Or, I just give up hope and become a boney.

No one likes those things. I bet if boneys could still feel, even they'd look at themselves and say, "What the fuck". They're the lingering remains of a human's body that hovers around the rest of us. There are no features left that show what they once looked like. Muscles and sinew and tissue all turned to black, and their thin body's resembled skeletons. Most of the time, they lurk in the shadows, wheezing without breathing, and rot.

Zombies become a boney when they've pretty much had enough of living through death. I've seen a zombie just look at nothing and then peel their face off. Oh, look, there's one now. Dude, that is so gross. Don't pick at it. Ugh.

This is what I get to look forward to. Not at all inspiring, really.

I have a friend, M, that I can kind of talk to. And by talking I mean stare awkwardly at and moan as if we're having a conversation. Most days, M likes to rides escalators. Today, I found him staring at a static television that used to announce arrivals. He turned to regard me with a grunt when I joined him by his side.

Maybe we're related. We look alike. We both have blond hair that probably once shone brightly in the light, but is now dirty and scraggly. M's hair is a little longer than mine. He also has glasses. I had a pair, but lost them awhile back, although, it doesn't matter. My zombie eyes, though dull and grey, have perfect vision. I like to think they were once blue or green, maybe even red, because that's a color eye color. I'll never know.

Thinking about my eyes isn't the only thing I like to wonder about. I look at other zombies and give them back stories, as if they're my own little characters in a story. That guy, with the sunglasses, was probably a rich businessman at one point. He looks like he was all set for a vacation, too. And then he died. Sad. That chick looks tired, well, I mean, we all do, but maybe she was once a single-mother. Did her kids die too? Maybe they're still out there, lamenting her death.

Oh yeah, I'm with M. M is one of the lucky few who can remember something about him; the first initial of his name. It's not much to a living person, but to the rest of us nameless millions, it's something. It's the absolute _something_ that can help us get by some days. Maybe if we had that aspect of our lives back we'd be happy. But who ever heard of a happy zombie?

I think mine started with an A, or maybe that's just the first letter of the alphabet.

Sometimes M cracks a joke that I guess I would laugh at normally, but most days he's really quiet. I like to talk. Well… _talk_. Today's word of the day is…

"Hmm…Hurn… Hun…gry…"

M's dead eyes roll around in his head almost in thought. Then, he grunts at me. "F…Foooood."

"Mm… Ci…City…"

M nods at me. We set out for the nearby city where we know a small hoard of humans still reside behind a large wall. Along the way, other zombies join us, and we never mind their company. Going in large groups makes sense since everyone is trying to shoot at you. But _God_ do we walk slow. This will take a little while.

* * *

This city is the most depressing place. It's humanity's graveyard, almost. I'm not sure who had the balls to do it, but some crazy person actually took the time to graffiti every possible place they could find. Who would see this? It wasn't bad or crude. Some were even beautiful images of a field with the sun setting or of children playing together. But did the artist do this for any reason?

I like them, so I hope that's enough for the anonymous painter.

We saw a few boneys gnawing on some person's leg. Those guys are crazy. They can sense a heartbeat from a distance, and will eat anything that has it. Yeah, even animals. Poor guys. If a boney locks onto you, there's no escape. Kind of like a bad girlfriend.

We tend to stay clear of them, so we shuffled into some alleyway. Then, we came out onto another street. Around us were important buildings with ripped flags and paper streamers hanging out of windows. A bank, or some government building?

That's when we smelled something. It was strong, and pounded in our ears. I know smell can't actually pound in your ears, but it was to us.

Wait, was that…tea?

M brushed into me as he charged up the stairs into a tall, grey building that loomed high in the sky. I glanced at the sign and remembered it from my comics. It was a hospital. I barreled ahead to take charge. Halfway up the stairs to where the scent was the strongest, we heard people. Their voices were harsh and soft, fast, but then slow and hesitant. For all of my limited vocabulary skills, their ability to freely communicate was always pretty awe-inspiring.

I wondered what it was like before all of this when everyone communicated so easily. I see in my comics how they'd talk on cell phones or through the computer, but that was always the boring part. When they would talk, face to face, looking in the other's eyes, and able to be close was when it seemed important.

What is that like?

What's wrong with me? Am I _really_ thinking about that stuff when the overpowering smell of human is so close? I'm seriously weird.

I burst into the room. The butt end of a pistol hit me upside my jaw. I collapse onto the floor nursing it. The man who hit me jumped away as M came from right behind me to attack him. He shouted orders in some strange accent, and then clamored up onto a table where he began to fire. There was an impressive amount of humans this time, and they were all young. If I was still alive I might be their age. Judging by my casual T-shirt and jeans, I'd say I didn't dress to impress very often.

The first guy shouted something, and then I felt a bullet whizz by my head. I looked over with wide eyes. Another man appeared in my sights with a shotgun. He was blond with pale skin, making the blood on his cheeks from dying zombies stand out. But it was his green eyes I saw first. Thick eyebrows furrowed his brow, making them burn with anger. He looked so _alive_.

Did the other humans ever look like that too? I never noticed before.

I felt something in my chest. It was soft, and fluttered like a bird, but felt heavy.

I made a move towards the blond, when someone shot my shoulder. Looking up, I saw it was the first guy. He had messy, brown hair and freckles littering his face like a blood splatter. I didn't see his eyes. I was too angry.

See, I'm not a violent guy, but when you get shot at, you kind of _have_ to fight back. That's just the way the world is now. And, I mean, what kind of zombie would I be if I _didn't_?

The man raised his fun to fire again, but my instincts took over. All I thought was _kill_. Oh, and I noticed he had a really nice watch.

I grabbed the man's legs and pulled them out from under him. He landed hard on the table. Then, I dragged him onto the floor. Grabbing his arm, I then bit into his jugular. As the man struggled, I grabbed his head with one hand, while the other held him down by his chest. But he was growing weak from the blood loss, so he didn't put up that great of a fight. I then slammed his head down into the floor repeatedly until his screams were silenced, replaced by a sickening _crack_.

I didn't want to kill him, I never do, but if I don't, he'll come back like me. And that's not cool. Plus, okay, I know it's gross, but the brain is the best part. Yeah, it tastes great, but that isn't why we eat them.

For a moment, we see memories.

We feel _alive_.

There's a _boom_ of fireworks over my head, and children laughing around me, and I am suddenly a young boy watching a nighttime show with my family. But one child screams in fear. I hear a mother soothing him beside me.

"Rhye, help me? Arthur is scared."

"Mom," I whine. "Why me? Scott's the oldest. Shouldn't he do it?"

"Rhye Kirkland." Her voice is stern. I look over quickly. She has long, blonde curls and bright green eyes that reflect the fireworks exploding overhead. In her arms she holds a young child of about three with a mop of blond hair. "Just hold him while I get his green bunny. He'll calm down after that."

I sigh. "Okaaay…" As I take my little brother, I give him a sneer. "Such a pain."

Then, I am fourteen. I see my older brother, Scott, running with a gun in his hand. He has wild, red hair and is certainly much taller than me. Behind him are humans that no longer look right. He's dragging a young boy with him. It's Arthur.

"Hurry!" I yell. I am standing just inside a large wall with soldiers standing beside me, their guns raised and ready to fire.

Scott and Arthur make it inside, and we close the gates. I look at my brother closely.

"We're fine," Scott snaps, brushing me aside. "We didn't get bit."

I turn, and there's Arthur on the ground. He's eight now, but still much smaller than most boys his age. I know he gets picked on a lot for it. "You stupid piece of shit! What were you doing outside?! There are more of them and less of us every day!"

"It's mum's birthday!" Arthur cries. He holds up crumpled daises in his shaking hands.

Scott moves to hit Arthur, and the boy flinches away, but he stops. "You stupid-! Mum _died_! We are all we have left of each other!"

Suddenly, I am struck in the face by Scott. He is looking at me furiously.

"Dad put _me_ in charge! Yer job is to watch Arthur!" He pushes Arthur away into the arms of a nearby medic, who ushers him off towards our makeshift hospital. "He's a stupid kid, so make sure he doesn't get hurt!"

My nose is bleeding, but my pride hurts worse. I nodded stiffly. Scott looked me over in disdain before turning away. He acts so much older than me, and yet I knew he was really only four years my senior. It's sad when you're forced to grow up young.

"As if _you_ could really _be_ much of anything," he mutters under his breath.

It hurt. I knew it did. And yet, I remain quiet.

And then I was back in my own body. I heard someone calling out a name. The poor soul, Rhye, was dead. His blood was on my hands. It was probably warm, but I couldn't tell. All I could think of were those green eyes.

Quickly, I hid behind a table. Most of the humans and zombies were dead by now. M was still feeding in the far corner. That man with the green eyes was out of ammo. I wiped blood off of my lips, but I think it just smeared everywhere. It mingled with the dark, almost black blood staining my skin. Slowly, I approached the man.

I'm not sure why, but… There was something about those eyebrows and those fiery eyes that made me want to hold him close and not each him. Maybe I was that hungry, even though I just ate. Maybe I was delusional from being hit in the jaw by the butt end of a pistol. Maybe it was something else entirely that I couldn't understand anymore because I died God knows how long ago.

I don't know.

I always think something's wrong with me, so maybe this was the final jump I had over the edge to full insanity.

I couldn't help it as I walked slowly towards the man who tried to hide under a table with only a knife as his remaining weapon. He flung it at me, and it hit right under my bottom rib. It didn't hurt. I just pulled it out and kept walking.

The others would start to smell him. They'd find him. I realized that I _knew_ I wouldn't like that.

"Get away from me, you bastard!" he hissed. His accent, like in the memories, was mesmerizing.

"Shhh," I whispered. I held a bloody finger to my lips as I began to crouch down. _A name!_ It came to me from the memories, but how do I say it? It's there, but I don't know how to actually say it. _Oh, just do it!_ "Ar…Art…hur…"

The man's eyes widened. They were such a pretty green. "What…?"

M was done. He lifted his head and began to sniff the air. The few remaining zombies did too. I dropped a hand to my chest where Arthur's knife had penetrated my skin. Some of my black blood had oozed out.

"Shh…," I whispered again. Slowly, to not alarm Arthur, I ran my fingers down his cheek and neck.

He closed his eyes with a grimace on his face. It was enough zombie blood to mask his human scent, for now. Arthur looked just over my shoulder with a panicked look. Under another table was a man with long, blond hair. There was zombie blood on him as well, probably from when he killed the others, so he was safe for the time being. He watched in horror as I took Arthur's hand, and led him out of the room.

We passed his brother's mutilated corpse. I looked away. He saw it. I heard him hiccup through a muffled cry. The other zombies took my lead, and followed us out.

Arthur was smart. He stayed close and kept quiet. I think if I were in this situation, I would have screamed and freaked out. That's a sure fire way of dying.

The blood on Arthur would only fool the zombies. Hopefully the boneys were out for the day, or at least clear of our path as we went home. No one had ever brought a human back to the airport. Then again, no one even knew why we were all shuffling around in an airport in the first place. Maybe we were waiting for something.

I live in a Boeing 747. It's not glamorous, and I only say I live there because that's where I stash my comics and music and trinkets. That is where I took Arthur. It sat on the tarmac of the airport proudly, waiting for us. Arthur looked at it with the same expression he had since leaving the city.

Once inside, he nearly fell into a seat. He stared at me wide-eyed. He totally missed all of my cool stuff. I sat a row across from him. His breathing was heavy and loud in the quiet space. Neither of us talked.

Well, this is a shitty first date. I fixed my limp hair and turned to face Arthur. His expression hadn't changed.

"Look, if you're going to eat me, just do it already!"

Oh yeah, I forgot I was dead. No wonder he was scared shitless. I should probably let him know that wasn't my plan, but that's a lot of words.

"N…nnnnot…eat." A new record; two words! Arthur seemed confused by what I had just mumbled. I pointed at my mouth and made chewing motions, and then shook my head.

"What?" Arthur looked even more lost than before. "Why?"

"K-Keep…sa…safe."

Arthur was silent for a moment. Then, he asked me a question I didn't know the answer to.

"What _are_ you?"

* * *

* * *

_Hoshiko2_ 's cents: This will be a short, four-part series that was brought upon by Akaishinda and enabled by Owyn. They are both terrible people.

I'm incorporating both pieces of the movie and book, and the original story is in NO way mine. Credit goes to the author, Issac Marion. If you haven't read the book and/or seen the movie, I highly suggest you do. It is so much more than a Romeo and Juliet zombie love movie.


	2. Chapter 2

I may be dead, but I know when a person needs their space. I wandered around the airport in hopes of distracting myself from the fact I brought home a living human. Granted, he was a very angry and emotional human, but I think anyone would be at this point. The problem is, I had no idea how to fix that.

After I failed to explain I wasn't going to eat him, Arthur remained curled up in his seat with horrified eyes and a rigid body. I guess my home wasn't home enough for Arthur no matter how many knickknacks I had in the cabin. It wasn't my fault that… Wait, yeah it was. I ate his brother and then dragged him into my zombie lair.

Okay, so it was my job as a host to make my guest comfortable. Again, I had no idea how to fix it. I looked for M. He's a good listener. M was riding an escalator, but it lurched to a sudden stop. The electricity was spotty in the airport. Sometimes it would be out for a few days or just a few hours. Until then, M would stand on the steps, waiting for his ride even though he could walk down the steps himself.

I walked up the steps of the opposing escalator, and stopped at the same level as M. He looked at me. What should I say?

Hey, so I've got some living dude back at my place, but get this, I don't wanna eat him! How do I get him to like me?

Yeah, that wouldn't go over real well. So, I did the only thing that came to mind.

"Uhn…" M nodded as if he understood. I don't think he actually did. I tried again. "Uh… Mmm…"

This wasn't good. M was just staring at me. So, I left. It was getting late. I should check on Arthur.

Once I made it back, Arthur scrambled back to his seat. I noticed he had been fiddling with my record player. Then, I noticed he was shivering. I moved past Arthur to dig in my stash of clothing. I once went on a clothing binge, hoping to find a suitable superhero outfit.

"What're you doing?" Arthur asked quietly from his seat. He had popped his head over the back of the headrest to watch me.

I then turned and draped a brown leather jacket over the front of Arthur's body. There was fur on the collar, and fur keeps people warm, right? Maybe Arthur would like it.

He looked at it strangely, but didn't throw it aside. "Um…thank you…"

It was as if he was having trouble understanding my gesture and forming words to thank me. It was nice to see even humans struggle with this kind of stuff. I wanted to smile, but then I realized I had forgotten something really important; mood music.

I moved to my record player. It was my prized possession. I found it in a store behind a shattered glass case. The store itself once sold numerous old vinyl. Like a rat, I took them all. I didn't know the musicians or cared. All I knew was that the music mattered.

I put a vinyl on and started the player. It was jazz.

_You make me feel so young. You make me feel there are springs to be sprung, bells to be rung, and a wonderful fling to be flung. And even when I'm old and grey, I'm gonna feel the way I do today 'cause you, you make me feel so young._

Arthur was watching me. I closed my eyes and tried to dance to the song, but even I knew it was odd for a zombie to dance. When I opened my eyes, Arthur had the oddest expression on his face. I couldn't tell if he was scared or amused. Maybe both.

I stopped dancing. Quickly, I sat down in a seat behind me.

"I don't know what you are…," Arthur started with a soft voice. "…but you are certainly a strange one."

* * *

Arthur slept with a peaceful face. I wonder what he dreamt about. Us zombies don't dream. We don't sleep. We fade out of reality from time to time, but that ability to shut down our systems overnight is not a luxury we can afford. I think that's another superpower I'll never get.

I could still feel the mush of Rhye's brains in my pocket. I'd eat them now, but since Arthur was right there and he could wake up at any minute, I didn't want to risk it. There's nothing like seeing your date eat your brother's brains to put your nerves at ease.

Arthur awoke some time later. He pulled the jacket closer to his already tightly curled up body. Then, he saw me staring. He frowned. I looked away. _Don't be creepy_ , I reminded myself.

"I'm hungry," Arthur said suddenly. "And, if I'm to be held here by you, the least you could do is be useful." Then, he added on, "Please. I'd be very grateful."

I guess living through the night was enough for him to realize I was being honest when I said I wouldn't eat him. I nodded, and then got up. Before I left, I turned to look at Arthur.

"S…stay… Nnot…sa…fe."

Arthur nodded. I left.

This was great! I could be of use to Arthur! He'd be so happy if I could bring him food! Of course, I didn't know what was good and what was spoiled. This was an airport, and there was plenty of food, but would any of it be actually any good? I hunted down a food court near me and investigated their refrigerators. Then, I grabbed an armful of different types of food and made a dash back home. Arthur was waiting for me! And M was still on his escalator.

Halfway back, though, I smelled tea; Arthur. He was outside. I dropped the food.

A small cluster of zombies were heading off towards an airplane that was sitting off to the far side of the tarmac. They'd find him soon, but I needed to be faster.

I saw his white collared shirt and blue jeans from afar. They weren't nearly as dirty as our raggedy clothes with blood staining them. He was crouched down low behind a plane's wheel, watching as I rushed to him. He looked a little relieved.

"I'm sorry," he hissed. I wasted no time as I smeared my black blood on his face. Again, Arthur looked uncomfortable. "Is this really necessary?"

I gave him a sniff. It was enough to fool everyone for now. While I don't heal like a human does, the flow of blood from my body had dried up since Arthur had stabbed me yesterday. The zombies were still coming, but they no longer looked crazed for food. They knew the scent of human was gone, or at least stifled, but they had no idea what was human and what was zombie. We had to get out of here, regardless.

I took Arthur's wrist, and we stood up together. "Be…dead…"

Arthur seemed hesitant. I moaned and took a few staggered steps. Arthur mimicked me with his arms out limply and loud, exaggerated moans. His head rolled to the side and he jerked and twitched his body forward.

I stared at him, unamused. "Too…much."

You don't see me being some stereotypical human. Never mind the fact that I can't, it was rude. But, it worked. The zombies passed by us. We were in the clear.

"Said…s…stay…," I mumbled.

Arthur sighed, irritated. "I know… But I can't stay here."

"Like…u…us." Arthur looked at me, startled. Wrong thing to say. "Sssmell…same…"

Arthur sighed in relief, dropping his hands and walking normal as we neared the plane. "Okay. I get it."

Before we got back to the plane, we stopped to pick up the food. Arthur wrinkled his nose at the moldy burger I had picked up. He left that one behind. Instead, he grabbed the can of preserved fruits. We made it back to the plane with no further interruptions. There, Arthur ate.

"Oh, this is so _good_." He closed his eyes with a blissful look on his face. I watched him in envy. Again, he seemed uncomfortable with my staring. "Um…I've been meaning to ask… How do you know my name?"

Uh oh. Shit. Make something up!

"H…heard s-someone…"

Arthur seemed satisfied. "It was probably my brother…" He saddened at this. "He…died. But…he wanted that. He died a long time ago, in his heart."

I watched the emotions play across Arthur's face. Some, I recognized such as sadness and pain, but others were too advanced for me to know. Maybe it was regret or guilt? I didn't know those feelings as I hadn't done anything I regretted. Okay, so I ate Arthur's brother, but _he_ didn't know that. I am a zombie, after all. These things kind of happen.

"Rhye went through a lot. He always watched over me. Scott was too busy once dad died and left him in charge, and Emma… Well, she…" Arthur closed his eyes. The emotions reset. He opened his eyes again and looked at me with a hesitant smile. "So, I guess you're my protector now?"

I shrugged.

"Well, don't think I'm weak." Arthur puffed his chest out as if to seem bigger than he really was. "I can take care of myself. I had a plan to get out, you know. I just…sort of got caught."

I didn't believe him, so I shrugged instead.

"In any case, you know my name, but I don't know yours. What is your name, Mr. Zombie?" Arthur actually seemed interested. Too bad I had nothing of interest to give.

"A… A…," I struggled.

"A?" Arthur asked. I nodded. "You don't remember?"

I shrugged again. Arthur got up suddenly. "Well, then I shall just have to call you A. Now then, A, why do you have so many American things? You have a flag, that old WWII bomber jacket, comic books, old American memorabilia, currency, and jazz records. Were you once American? I, myself, am English, although all of the British Isles are submerged underwater."

I shrugged once more. Arthur grew frustrated. "You shrug too much. It's most unbecoming."

"Dead…too…," I mumbled.

Arthur smirked. "Yes, that too. Tell me, A, why so many American things?"

"Po…wer."

"Power? Hm, I guess America _was_ powerful before the war and the plague. I was two when it collapse, so I don't remember much else about it other than what I hear from others. The UK had already fallen by then, and then sank. I think because America tried to help its allies first that it fell. And then you lot appeared. It's like you were the final nail in the coffin on humanity. Although, seeing you be so different makes me wonder if there are more of you."

I highly doubted it, but I said nothing. Arthur flipped through my comics and browsed my albums. I watched him all the while. I enjoyed how he moved. There was no hesitation, no jerking because his muscles didn't always cooperate. It was fluid and natural. I was unnatural.

He put on some jazz, and then began to dance. His hips swayed from side to side. It was as if a wave rolled up his body to his shoulders, moving them back and forth in rhythm with the music. I could never move like that. Still, I tried.

Arthur's back was to me. He moved his arms back and forth along with his hips, but when I did it, they flopped around like a dead fish. His head, like his body, swayed from side to side smoothly. Mine rocked hard from side to side as I jerked my hips forwards and back in a very odd and unsexy manner. This was worse than the white man's dance.

Then, Arthur turned around. He saw me. I stopped, almost as if I were embarrassed. Then, Arthur began to laugh loudly. I watched intently.

He was beautiful as life poured into his cheeks, shaking his body, and echoing about the cabin. It made me want to smile.

"You're not terribly good at this. Here, let me help you." Arthur took my wrist and began dancing again. "Relax a little. Loosen up some, like me."

I tried to follow along, but my eyes were watching his face too closely to really see how he moved. He was still smiling.

* * *

"How long do I have to be here?" Arthur asked that night. He lay in the aisle across from me with the jacket over his chest. I'd found an American flag that served as a blanket, but he still held onto the jacket.

"Few…days…"

Arthur bit his lower lip. His teeth were so white. I don't even want to know what mine looked like. I sucked in my lips to hide them.

Arthur noticed and frowned. "What's wrong? Are you…hungry?"

I shook my head. Then, I remembered Rhye's brains. Soon the memories would dissolve the longer the pieces sat in my pocket. I should eat them soon.

Arthur shifted, attracting my attention suddenly. "My brother, Scott, is probably over Rhye's death by now. He might even think I'm dead, unless Francis got home and told him you took me."

"Come…here?" I asked.

"No, I don't think so. There are too many of you. And he doesn't know exactly where I am." Arthur lie on his back. I followed suit. "A? Do you…know who killed my brother?"

Fuck!

"Mmm…"

"It doesn't matter, I guess. But…will he come back like you?"

"Nnno…"

"That's good, then. I don't want him to live a zombie life."

I turned my head sharply to look at Arthur. That was _my_ phrase. That heavy thing in my chest thudded hard.

Arthur looked at me. He smiled softly. "Although, I wouldn't mind if he came back like you."

I wanted to say so much then. Zombies don't talk because I don't think they have anything to say. They don't want to. Just like the pull to meet deadlines, to make money, to _do_ something with yourself that's defined by someone, talking has gone by the wayside. And yet, Arthur was there, across the aisle from me, and I couldn't express myself.

I got up and staggered into the cockpit. Arthur said nothing as I left. I sat down in the captain's seat. Slowly, I pulled out a piece of brain.

 _Teach me_ , I internally prayed.

I am twelve and running through a field of wildflowers. A girl with long hair, much in the same color as mine, is running freely beside me. She laughs loudly. The sun is warm.

And then, a year later, she is dead.

I stumble upon a zombie that is eating her neck. It looks up and sees me. I try to pull out my gun. The zombie gets up and charges me.

"Rhye!" It is Arthur. He is ten. He has a small hand gun and is racing to my side. "Rhye, look out!"

He shoots the zombie in the head. Scott has trained him well. But she is gone. Like mom and dad, Emma is now dead.

I am four, watching as Arthur sleeps. He is only just born. He is small, weak, and helpless. I take him into my arms.

"Why did you want to come into this world?" I ask. "There's nothing here. What can you do? You're better off dead."

Arthur wakes up in my arms. He looks up at me with green eyes. I cry.

* * *

I know a lot of zombies have gone to the city for the day, so I think it's okay for Arthur to come outside. He's slightly nervous. I smeared extra blood on his face, but he no longer looks put off by it. Rather, it's as if he's accepted that this is how things are. Still, he offers me a small smile.

I searched his eyes briefly. They are still the same as in Rhye's memories. He's lost so much. How is still so happy, even after all of this?

"Oh, A! Look!" Arthur found an apple red convertible Porsche. It's wedged underneath a baggage car, but is mainly undamaged. He climbed in the driver's seat. "Let's go for a ride! They left the keys!"

I got into the passenger side. It was surprising it still worked, and yet it roared to life. I clutched onto the seat as Arthur sped off. It's too fast for me. Arthur took his hands off of the wheel to hold them up into the air. I stared at him in fear. He laughed, and then put them back on the steering wheel.

"Do you want to try?" he asked.

I nod slowly. All superheroes have vehicles, like the Bat mobile. This could be mine. Arthur, though, is not my sidekick. He is my Louis Lane (Arthur told me her name).

We started off slow and jerky, like me. Arthur was patient to explain that I drive with one foot and not two. He offered me a kind smile. I tried to give one back.

There was a warm bubble around us. In it, I am not dead. I am beautiful, like Arthur. I can smile and put my arm around his shoulder, and he'll lean into my touch. We'll be happy.

But Arthur pushed my hand away. His smile was forced and he doesn't meet my eyes. "Both hands on the wheel."

Oh well.

* * *

"A? Do you remember any of your life?" Arthur asked me suddenly. He had taken to reading me my comics. The pictures were even better with a story to go along with it.

I looked up and shook my head. "Just…A."

Arthur sighed sadly on my behalf. "That must hurt. All memories, even bad, are worth remembering. It's the only way to make it through each day. Sometimes I think nothing will change, and the world will die out. But… I don't know if that's good or bad. Rhye would say it's good. He hated humanity."

I was staring at Arthur when it hit me. Up until I met Arthur I had nothing worth remembering, and I couldn't recall a single part of my day. I just wandered every day, lost, lonely, and dead. We all do. There is no purpose to why we do. We just exist.

I wanted to tell Arthur all of this. I wanted to reach out and hold Arthur close as I babbled about this. Maybe even make him smile or laugh again.

"Yo…You… mem…ory," I tried.

Arthur tilted his head to the side. "I'm a memory?"

I nodded. Slowly, I touched my hand to my chest. I felt a thump under my hand where my heart was. Then, I reached out across to Arthur and put my hand on his heart. There was a steady beat in his chest.

Arthur looked at me in amazement. "A… I…"

He, like me, was unable to express how he felt.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: Thank you for all of the lovely follows and reviews. I appreciate it.


	3. Chapter 3

I am eighteen. I watch as my youngest brother handles a gun. He has worked with one for years, but today he is joining the Armed Forces. Scott is looking at him proudly. I never wanted Arthur to join. He says it is to avenge Emma and our parents. I never tell him he's an idiot. He's doing it so he can die, like we all are.

"You're doing humanity a favor," Scott says. He isn't smiling as he says it. I retch at his fake pride.

"I don't care," says Arthur. "I just want to kill all of the zombies."

I smirk. He is no different from us. Somehow, that is a sad thing.

It is Scott's birthday, but he doesn't come home. He has been out for three days. There is talk he is making arrangements with another human colony. Maybe we'll move, or they'll move here. It could be interesting, but I think it's useless. We'll all die anyway. Why try to connect with more depressing humans?

"I made cake," Arthur says. He must be in a bad mood. He only cooks when he's angry.

"Oh God," I mumble.

Arthur shoots me a glare that I've learned to ignore. He thinks he's so scary, but I know better. For all of his anger and bitterness at the world, Arthur tries too hard to save it. He is soft. He can get hurt. One day, he will be, and I'll be there to help protect him.

"If you don't like it, don't eat it," Arthur hisses. "Besides, it's not like I made it for you. It's for Scott."

"Poor soul."

Again, Arthur glares. I smile. He doesn't mean it, but I do.

Suddenly, Rhye looks at me. "Hey, you."

_What?_

"Don't fuck this up."

_How are you doing this?_

"Just let me finish. Pay attention now."

Arthur is being reckless. He goes out searching to kill zombies at any given chance. And Scott always gives him those chances. He doesn't care if Arthur is stupid and gets hurt. I am uneasy, but say nothing. No one listens to me anymore. Instead, I go along.

Arthur is twenty-two. He is dating now. I try to warn him about women, but he never brings her around. I worry she is made up. But then, Arthur comes home with a busted lip and tears in his eyes. His heart is broken.

"Arthur," I start. I have never consoled my brother before. He usually has two emotions; angry and cynical. Even his happy moods are usually him being less angry. "Are you okay?"

"No…" Arthur reminds me of a frightened cat. He skitters away from any comfort I try to give. Still, if he doesn't want to be consoled, then why is he here? "I… I'm so…"

"Hurt? Angry?" I supply.

"Confused," Arthur finishes. He's looking out the window. I'm silent, waiting until he remembers I'm still here. Then, with a sigh he says, "I wish I could garden again. I miss getting my hands dirty and having earth under my nails."

"The fuck brought this on?" I ask.

Arthur looks conflicted. "Rhye, I'm gay."

"Were you expecting some dramatic confrontation or something?" Arthur looks at me. He is still guarded. "Look, do you think it's _any_ of my business?"

"Scott wants people to repopulate the planet," Arthur murmurs.

"Scott is an ass who doesn't know what he's talking about." Arthur chuckles. "Arthur, knock up a girl if you want to make our brother happy, but _love_ whoever you want."

Arthur is smiling. Rhye looks at me.

_How are you doing this?_

"It's my memory. Now, shut up."

I am in a dull building. I am watching Arthur as he rummages through a cupboard.

"Oh look, Arthur! Lube!" Francis teases. "Now we just have to find you an actual boyfriend."

"I'd rather focus on the task at hand," Arthur replies through grit teeth. He is in a good mood today. "Orders are orders."

"One day you'll just morph into Scott," someone says. Arthur looks troubled by this.

Then, Francis looks sharply at the door. "Did you hear that?"

"Calm down, Francis," I say with a bored sigh. "We're not running again just because you think you hear something. We did that last time, and it turned out to be nothing."

Francis scoffs. "The Kirklands certainly are stuck up today."

Arthur smirks as if he is proud of this. He catches my eye. We share a smile.

Then, there _is_ a noise.

_Oh no._

I turn. A zombie with ratty blond hair is charging at me. He bares his teeth as he bursts into the room. I smack him in the chin with the butt of my gun.

_No! I don't want to see this! Stop!_

I climb on top of a table to shout orders. I keep an eye on Arthur. I see that first zombie stare at him hungrily. Taking aim, I shoot at his shoulder.

Rhye stops. He looks at me. I'm suddenly in my body.

"You want to know how to be human again? Then learn to say good-bye."

_No! No! No!_

Rhye smirks. "Wow, what an immature zombie. Think you can hog my brother all to yourself?"

_Stop it! Leave me alone!_

Rhye's smile fades. "Suit yourself."

I woke up in a panic and then spat the brains out. I was sitting in the cockpit again. Arthur had long since gone to bed. I thought it would be okay to eat. Too bad the brains were bad now.

For some reason I was out of breath. That heavy thing in my chest hurt. It felt like it was hitting my ribs with how fast it was pounding. Was I sweating? Shit, I must look horrible. I didn't want Arthur to see me like this. It's bad enough I'm already dead looking; I didn't want to look like an unkempt zombie.

However, when I turned around in my seat to check on Arthur, that heavy thing inside of me thudded to a stop.

He was gone.

I nearly fell on my face as I leapt out of the seat. My stupid zombie body couldn't move fast enough. All I thought of was Arthur. Rhye's words echoed in my head.

_Time to say good-bye._

No. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

It was pitch black outside. In the distance I heard the rumbling of thunder. There were a few zombies shuffling about outside like lost old people. I ignored them. I followed the strong scent of tea I had come to know well over the past days. I just hoped no boneys were nearby and were following that same smell too.

Arthur was near the Departures gate. He was still wearing the leather jacket. He had a fire axe in hand that he swung around wildly at the four zombies that had circled him. He swung at one, embedding the axe in her head. She fell down dead, but took the axe with her. Arthur scrambled to recover it, but the remaining three zombies took that chance to attack.

I tackled one zombie to the floor. This stopped the others as they saw me appear in the group. Arthur pulled out the axe, and then hit another zombie in the face. I grabbed the final zombie and slammed his head down onto the ground until his skull cracked.

I turned to look at Arthur. He didn't meet my eyes. He seemed unharmed.

"I _know_ , A. It's not safe." Arthur was angry. Was it at me? Or was he upset I had found him again? "But you said a few days. It's been a few days. I can't stay here anymore. I want to go home."

I nodded, although I didn't want to. I'd never see Arthur again if he left. He ran away twice now. Who's to say he won't ditch me and flee again?

The zombie I had pushed to the floor got back up. It was M. He looked furious.

"Human! Eat!" I shook my head. I got between M and Arthur. "Eat! EAT!"

Again, I shook my head. M furrowed his brow in confusion. He opened his mouth to repeat himself, but then there was shriek. Arthur turned sharply. At the end of the hallway was a boney.

"Fuck," Arthur hissed. I looked at him. He finally met my eyes. There was terror there. "Run!"

I cast one last look at M before running with Arthur. M watched us go with the same perplexed expression. At least he didn't join the boney in chasing after us. How I wish M could come with us. He deserved to understand this.

The boney was quick. He managed to keep up with us at every turn. We ran into the food court. Arthur knocked over some chairs to discourage it, but it didn't work. We rushed into a back kitchen and burst out onto the loading dock. The door only had a handle, not an actual doorknob. Arthur shoved his axe through the handle across the doorway. The boney slammed up against the door, but it was useless.

"Let's find a car," Arthur said breathlessly. I followed him towards the employee parking garage.

We had only taken a few steps when we were met with a trio of boneys. Arthur swore as he took a few steps back. I moved to protect him, but Arthur was the one trying to pull my out of harm's way. It wouldn't matter. A boney would tear through us both at this point.

Then, a baggage cart ran over all three of the boneys. Arthur and I started in surprise. I looked at the driver. It was M.

"Get…on," he mumbled.

"Like hell I am!" Arthur snapped.

M's blue lips twitched up into a smile. "Like him…"

I nodded at Arthur reassuringly. "Friend."

"Odd friends," Arthur huffed. Regardless, he got into the passenger seat. I climbed onto the back with little grace.

M took off, running over the boneys again. Their bones cracked loudly under the tires. I didn't want to think about the fact that the tables could have been turned and that could very well have been either me or Arthur. I guess this is how someone feels when they are grateful. If I was given the chance to repay M, I'd find it.

The cart lurched to a sudden stop. Ahead of us were a small herd of zombies. There were too many for M to run over like he had the boneys. Just behind them was that cherry apple red Porsche. I jumped off of the cart to stand before Arthur. He had gotten out of the cart slowly, keeping a keen eye on every one of the zombies.

"A…"

I looked over at Arthur. He wasn't able to stay composed. Gone was that tough guise and smirking jokester that seemed to take everything in stride, replaced instead by a vulnerable and scared man. The adrenaline from having been chased must have simmered out. He was emotional.

There was a spark. My chest tightened. Things began to make sense; things like happiness, sadness, pride, and fear. They all touched Arthur so easily, reaching into the very core of him, and contorted his body on a daily basis. It was the superpower I was never meant to know, and yet, somehow it was all becoming clear. I clung to those new emotions tightly, wrapping them around me like a warm security blanket.

It was with these new emotions that I brushed my hand against Arthur's. He looked down. Slowly, he took my hand in his. Our fingers wound around one another. We looked into each other's eyes. Arthur's green was so vivid and close; almost as if I could reach out and pluck two emeralds from them.

I stared back at the zombies challengingly, anticipating their attack. They had stopped. They, too, were staring. Their expressions were strange on their dead faces. Did I look like that? Was that confusion or shock or something else entirely? It wasn't one that was normally on a zombie, that's for sure. Many leaned forward to get a better look at our joined hands, trying to figure out this great surprise. It was a huge wonder to them, and I have to admit, even I was shocked that Arthur was holding my hand.

"Let's go," Arthur whispered. He tugged on my hand. "I'll drive."

The zombies parted for us, still locked onto our hands. Looking back, I saw M was staring in awe at the sight. Human touch was never gentle. It was fast and bloody and full of pain. Usually it resulted in death, either theirs or ours. So to see gentle contact between me and Arthur was surely a surreal and fragile moment that no one wanted to disturb, and yet, at the same time, wanted to dissect to the very core to understand what it all meant. Communication and contact were all too foreign to us.

But then we heard the cries of the boneys and the moment was over. We released our hands. Arthur jumped in the car and I rushed to climb in as well. Then, we were off. He didn't leave me behind like I had feared. As he sped away from the airport, I looked down at my hands.

It was raining now. In hindsight, taking a convertible with a busted roof was not a good idea. I continued to stare at my hands. They were pale, almost transparent. Did Arthur feel how cold they were and become disgusted when he held my hand? How I wish I could have felt his warmth.

"Ugh, I'm soaked." Arthur picked at his white shirt. He had taken off the jacket and folded it under his shirt to protect it from the rain. I could see pink skin underneath sticking to the wet material. His nipples were hard from the cold. I just stared. "We have to find some place dry."

I nodded. My feet were in a puddle as the rain had gathered down below. When the rain stopped, Arthur stooped the car and opened the doors. The water flooded out onto the street. Then, Arthur drove off again.

He pulled off of the freeway. I glanced at the car's clock. It was nearly midnight by now. While I wasn't tired, I wondered if Arthur was. I glanced at him periodically. He was too focused on driving. I looked at his hands gripping the wheel, and then I looked down at my hands again.

We stopped in front of a cookie cutter house in a suburb. Trash, empty cars, and once loved possessions littered the front lawns. Many of the houses were boarded up. I noticed a small green rabbit plush lying in the gutter and imagined the little child it used to belong to.

"This is one of the last places my brother evacuated," Arthur explained. "There might still be canned food here."

He drove up onto the lot's lawn and parked it. We got out of the car. After maneuvering over the forgotten items, we made it to the front porch. The door was locked. Arthur sighed in frustration. He eyed the windows instead. My first image was Arthur's hands being cut up by the broken glass.

I rammed my shoulder into the door, pushed all of my weight into it. The door burst open, nearly coming off of its hinges. I stumbled a bit. I looked back at Arthur who simply stared at me with a frown.

"Bloody hell, A." Arthur passed by me, giving me an incredulous look.

The house was frozen in time. Plates with now moldy food sat on a table with utensils and full glasses of milk. All that was missing was a person. There was no ticking of a clock or the hum of machines in use. Chairs still had dents in them from being sat in, pictures were still hanging straight on the walls, and trinkets still lined the fireplace mantel.

I noticed a small pocket watch in the shape of a Spade. I snatched it up and slipped it into my jacket.

"Oh, look!" I tuned and was suddenly flashed in the eyes by a light. I stumbled back a bit in surprise. "It's all right. Sorry about that. It's one of those old Polaroid cameras. See? The picture is already forming."

Arthur held out what looked like a flimsy piece of paper. I stared as an image of me appeared on the front. I looked shocked. I also looked less dead. Before, my lips were nearly blue and blood veins were very visible on my neck and face under my nearly translucent skin. Now, my lips were of a more peach color, and the veins had receded somewhat. I took the picture, still staring.

"It's best to remember things," Arthur murmured. "Soon, they may be gone. This might be the last time you see it."

I gingerly took the camera from Arthur. Then, I pointed it at him. His face was red and he looked away. I took his picture.

* * *

It had started raining again. This was a good thing as it would throw the boneys off of our trail if they had decided to keep up their chase. Still, I took to hovering by the front windows, just in case. Arthur had found a kerosene lantern. He took it and wandered around the house. I heard him coming back downstairs, and turned to look at him.

"It's late and the bed upstairs isn't too shabby. I'm going to sleep."

I nodded. Turning back to the windows, I settled in for a long night. I was out of brains to eat, so I'd be unable to visit anymore memories.

"Um…" Arthur hadn't left yet. I looked at him. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn't looking at me. "This house is a little odd. D-do you want to come upstairs? Y-you'd take the floor, of course. A-and don't think it's because _I'm_ scared or anything like that. I'm doing this because, well! What if you broke something in the night? What a mess that'd be in the morning."

I tilted my head. Arthur was being nice to me. Sure, he taught me to dance and read me my comic books, but that was to pass the time. Now, it was as if he was trying to keep me close. I would never object to that.

I followed Arthur up the stairs. He had taken to the master bedroom. I lay down on the carpet while Arthur got in the Queen sized bed. I could hear a hard thumping in my ears. Arthur was tossing and turning in the bed.

"My clothes are still wet." He got up. I turned my head to look at him. "They'll have to hang dry overnight. L-look away."

I nodded and did as he said. I could hear him dress. My curiosity got the better of me. I shifted my head just enough to get a look.

_Holy shit._

Arthur's pale back was bare to me as he pulled his shirt up and over his head. I saw how his bones and muscles moved. After seeing the human body underneath the skin, the blood and organs and the tissues and sinew, it was strange to see it moving in tandem. Arthur was beautiful. Then, he took off his pants.

_Hoooooly fuck!_

I looked away quickly. I could hear Arthur finishing up lying out his clothes to dry. There was a crippling need in my chest that made me want to tell Arthur how beautiful was. Again, I was unable to.

"That's better." Arthur got back into bed with a satisfied sigh. I changed a look at him. All the bare parts of him were covered by the blanket, and all I saw was his face. He was smiling. "Hey… Thank you for saving me back there… I don't think I'd have made it otherwise. And… I'm sorry for running away again." I nodded. "I wonder how much further you're going to change. I can see in your eyes that you're trying so hard. It must be difficult."

I gulped. He was being so nice again. Why couldn't I do anything for him?

Then, I felt something heavy in my pocket; Rhye's watch. I reached in and pulled it out. Silently, I said farewell to Arthur.

"What is that?" Arthur asked.

"Sorry…" I reached up and placed in on the nightstand.

Arthur stared at it, unable to speak. He reached out and took it. Then, he pulled it to his chest. Slowly he began to curl up into himself. I watched as his face crumpled with the pain.

"Somehow… I knew it…," was all Arthur said before he turned his back to me.

"A... Arthur… S-sorry," I tried. My voice was weak. Then, I couldn't speak anymore.

I was met with Arthur's back, covered up by a thick blanket, shutting me out.

If I could sleep, I would. But I couldn't. I stared at Arthur's back for hours. He was asleep now.

The dead do not dream.

I am in a warm and sunny apple tree farm. The fields are golden with summer around me. In the trees are ripe fruit and singing birds. I can feel the breeze on my skin. Nearby is the sound of talking and laughing.

"If you could be anything in the world, what would it be?" It is Emma. She is sitting in a circle with her brothers on the grass, sharing an apple.

"I'm happy like this," Scott says casually.

"You're no fun," Rhye scoffs.

"I'd want to be a doctor," Arthur says. He takes a bite of the apple. "Then, I can help exhume the planet."

"What does exhume mean?"

"It means to revive," Arthur starts.

"It means to unbury," Rhye cuts in suddenly. "Like a dead body."

Then, Scott notices me. "And what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I dunno," I say. It's so easy to talk now. "I have no idea where I am. Is this a memory?"

"No, you dumb shit," Rhye says. "You're dreaming."

"Really?" I smile.

"What do you want to be?" Emma asks.

"I've never really thought about it. Maybe be a superhero."

Rhye and Scott laugh at me. "You can't be that."

Arthur gets up and stands beside me. "This is A's dream. He can be anything he wants."

"He wants to be with you," Rhye says with a knowing smile. "Don't you understand is feelings? But it's not going to work, zombie. Not after you ate me."

I look at Arthur. I take his hands. They are warm in mine. We share a smile. "You and me. Together. That's my dream."

Arthur brushes a hand across my cheek. "I think you should wake up now."

I jolted awake. I actually had dreamt. That hard thumping consumed my head. I almost didn't notice that it was morning and the sun was shining. All I saw was an empty bed.

The house was empty again. My jacket was left, draped over a chair. Arthur's picture was left on the table as well. I ran around the entire house, but I couldn't find Arthur. Then, I rushed outside. The car was gone.

He left.

I was alone again.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: One chapter left. Hope to see you then.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wants to help exhume humanity.

I’m just going to go home. That’s it. Just going to forget this even happened. I left the photographs of me and Arthur. I left my jacket. I left… _shit_ is it cold? Oh, it’s raining. But it’s rained before and I was never cold before.

I was walking home, having no idea if it was even the right direction, when it began to rain just like it had last night. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. It all hurt. This pain consumed me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, or function right. It was like I was worse than a zombie; already a boney. It didn’t matter. I’d probably turn into one of them soon enough.

It's better not to feel, just so I didn't have to feel like _this_.

"Hey…!"

I looked up. M was shuffling towards me with a herd of zombies following behind him. It was shocking to see him, but I felt an ease of pain in my chest. I wouldn't say it was a joy to see M, but it was certainly a relief. It was such a relief that I walked up to him and embraced him in the most awkward hug in the history of hugs. M just stood there with his hands dangling by his sides and his body stiff.

"You… ok?" M asked. I backed away with my head hanging low. I shook it pathetically. "Where's…the guy…?"

"L-left…" I actually think I wanted to cry, it hurt too much.

M groaned in disappointment. "Bitches man…"

I looked over M's shoulder at the zombies swaying about behind him. "Friends?"

M looked at them and nodded, smiling slightly. "Boneys…c-chase us out… Know we…we change…"

"All of …you…?"

"That g-guy… We see...things... In... head... I saw...pictures... Mom... maple s-syrup... hockey... winter..."

"Dreaming," I supply. I was surprised, actually. Had Arthur done that much, not just to me, but to everyone else? It was when we held hands. The zombies saw us. M saw us. It was then.

"B-boneys... searching...for you..." I shrugged. Honestly, at this point, I didn't care. If I died, well, then I died. Then, M said, "Searching... for him..."

I didn't like the sound of that. I could die a hundred deaths and it wouldn't matter. But Arthur...

"N-need to find…Arthur…," I murmured, growing in confidence. "N-need to…tell him… W-will you help… exhume…?"

M nodded, but then looked back at the zombies. They all moaned and groaned. So zombie-like. M looked back at me. "They say… f-fuck yeah."

* * *

The plan was a simple one. M and the others would pretend to chase me. I'd run to the wall, acting like I was alive and running from the zombies, and hopefully the humans would buy it. Once inside, I would scour the entire city until I found Arthur. All the while I would try to hide the fact I was a flesh-eating zombie that probably ate these people's relatives and loves ones. Yeah, simple.

We stopped back at the house where I had left the jacket. If I zipped it up and pulled the fur collar close, I might just pass as alive. It would hide my ratty T-shirt and blood stains. If I kept my head low no one would see my vacant eyes. Hopefully.

We put the plan into effect. I ran like I remembered seeing Arthur; head up, back straight, and arms pumping. That meant no lumbering gait or flailing arms. I even screamed for help.

It seemed to work. The soldiers at the gate called for me while firing at the horde behind me. Normally, we would have no chance against these men, but that was because we were too consumed with eating and not watching out. I didn't hear anyone fall down behind me.

"Come on! Hurry!" a soldier yelled. I brushed past him and into the front entryway of the city. The other soldiers were too occupied to want to interrogate me.

Outside, the zombies saw me safely inside, so they veered away and retreated. I could hear the soldiers' confusion at the sudden change. Us zombies don't just "give up". It wasn't from us being stubborn, but more focused. Or stupid.

I didn't want to wait around for a soldier to see me and start with questions, so I casually strolled away and into the main city. There was a powerful stench of manure and unwashed bodies all jammed into a ten block area. Cows, pigs, turkeys, and goats all co-existed with the humans that mingled about, although "mingled" seemed to be a poor choice of words. It was more like they bumped shoulders and ignored one another.

Was I mistaken? Was I back at the airport?

 _Tea_. I could smell it more than ever. It was faintly in that rickety house; had Arthur once gone there? It was over in the corner of that building; did Arthur once play there as a child? All around me were memories of Arthur's life. A building near me had a picture of a book on a sign outside. Maybe it was a school house.

I then noticed that most buildings and signs had pictures on them. Street signs had pictures of fruits. Entire houses were designated an animal. As I wandered the city, I wondered why this was. Then, I heard someone speaking a language that wasn't English. Was that why? Or had everyone forgotten how to read and write? Were they just as lost as me? At least this would be easier to navigate around the city for me.

The city itself wasn't much of a city, but more a squashed collection of houses and poorly built add-ons that wobbled precariously on the side. Crooked numbers had been nailed to the front of some of the better houses, and the more recently built ones had scrawled animals. Honestly, I thought this place looked really bad. 'Course, I can't really judge. I live in an airplane in an abandoned zombie airport. But at least my plane had color to it. This place was just grey. Even without the dark clouds overheard, blocking out the setting sun, I could tell that the city outside with all of its graffiti and walking dead was more colorful and lively than here.

 _Oh shit. Goats_. I tried to shoo a herd of goats away that seemed to attach themselves to me. Nothing like a bunch of goats gnawing away at my leg without my noticing to give me away.

The scent of tea led me to rundown bats, farms with fresh vegetables, sketchy neighborhoods with suspicious orphans, and one leaning tower with a 44 nailed on the door. This was his home.

Okay, great. I made it. Now what?

Shit, I hadn't actually thought that far ahead. I didn't think I'd actually get here so easily. What if Arthur rejected me? I think I'd die. Oh wait. Well, I'd probably have nothing left to lose, so I might just wander out to the city and tell a soldier who I was so I could _really_ die. Wow, that was pretty morbid. Is that what love was?

Wait, who said anything about love? Well, me, I guess. But when did that happen? One doesn't risk his life (?) and change who he is supposed to be for nothing. That just made this all the more difficult, because now if Arthur rejected me, my heart (or whatever was beating in my chest) would break. Can that metaphor work for zombies?

Just as I considered knocking on the front door, a door to the side on the second floor that led to the balcony opened up. I scrambled to hide behind a bush nearly. There were voices drifting down to me. One of them was Arthur's.

"Is it crazy?"

" _Oui_. Very." That was Francis. I remembered him from Rhye's memories. "Scott will never believe you. If it were multiple zombies, maybe, but one? It could be a fluke or something."

Arthur sighed. I saw him come out to the balcony and sit on the railing. "I know, but… He was different. He protected me."

"Scott will shoot his head off the minute he sees him, especially if you want to _date_ your zombie boyfriend," Francis teased.

 _They're talking about me?_ I peeked my head around the bush. I could see Arthur clearly.

Arthur shot Francis an irritated look. "Beltup. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Ah, I need my beauty sleep."

"How about a coma?" Arthur smirked. I smiled too.

" _Non_ , that would be more suited to you. But I fear even that wouldn't cure you of your eyebrows or sour personality." Francis' voice faded away.

Arthur looked irritated, but it quickly dissolved as he turned his attention to the early evening stars. Was now a good chance? How exactly would I get his attention? I glanced around, but there were no ladders or stairs or even vines I could climb up to reach him. He was a good three stories up.

Cautiously, I came out of the bush and crept closer to Arthur. "Arthur… Arthur…" My voice was too quiet, so I tried once more. "Arthur…!"

Slowly, as if in disbelief, Arthur looked over. His eyes widened at seeing me. "A…?! What are you _doing_ here?!"

"Want…to see you…" I tried to smile, but it probably looked disgusting.

Arthur turned his body fully to look at me. His eyes were soft as if he wanted to smile. "A… You can't be here. If they catch you, they'll kill you. People aren't like me."

"Kirkland!" Francis called from inside.

Arthur turned to look over his shoulder. Then, he returned to me. "A, you have to get out of here."

I shook my head. "Have…to talk."

Arthur bit his lip. He opened his mouth to speak, but then Francis came out onto the balcony. " _Mob Dieu_ , who are you talking to- Oh!"

I hovered closed to the bush, unsure if I should hide or not. From what I knew of Francis from Rhye's memories, he wasn't a particularly cruel person. Of course, he and Arthur didn't get along often, but he was still Arthur's friend. He just might turn me in despite that. But then he looked at Arthur with a raised eyebrow.

"That's him?" he whispered. Arthur nodded. He looked back at me. My arm jerked up, although I meant it to be a friendly wave. " _Bonsoir_."

"The curfew!" Arthur exclaimed suddenly, as if remembering what time it was. "A, you have to get inside. Go around to the door in the front and I'll let you in."

I hesitated for a moment to watch Arthur duck back inside the house. Francis was looking (more like gawking) at me oddly. Did I have something on my face or was I ugly or weird looking? Shit, would Arthur look at me the same way? That's not fair. He's so… and I'm so crappy.

"A!" Arthur hissed. I turned to find him standing in the front doorway. "Get over here!"

I hustled over with my eyes averted. He ushered me inside and then locked the door behind me. I could hear him panting from having just run three flights downstairs. It made me nervous somehow. He was so close. I could reach out and touch him, or I could tell him how I feel, but I didn't know how. I racked my brain for _something_ to say, but I was too dead. That's why Francis stared. I was still _just_ a zombie.

"Hello," Arthur murmured. I shuffled my feet. "I… I have no idea how you got in here, but… I'm happy to see you… Are you okay…?"

I nodded mutely. Arthur was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me. _Say something._ "H…hug?"

In all of my infinite wisdom, I chose that as the thing to say. Wow, was I smooth or what? But then, something amazing happened- Arthur hugged me. He put his arms around me and squeezed. I reacted better than when I hugged M. Something cool brushed against my neck. It took me a minute to realize it was Arthur's breath.

"Strange… You feel warmer than before."

I smiled, but Arthur didn't see it. When he released me, he turned towards the stairs. The back of his neck was red. He headed up and I trailed after him.

The house was tall and condensed. The were was no room for anything unimportant. Boxes were stacked high of food and blankets. In other rooms were cots full of people. They just shuffled about as if expecting something to happen. I avoided their stares.

Arthur led me into a room that I assumed was his. It was larger and had three other beds. Two of the beds were neatly made. The other on the far side of the room was messy with crude embroidery hanging on the wall near it. On the night stand to its side was a fragile looking teapot. It was painted in a red cross with white and blue around it.

Before I could get a chance to inspect the pot, Francis emerged from the balcony. He marched right up to me. I took a step back nervously, but it was a different kind of nervousness than when I looked at Arthur. Francis' face scrunched up as he inspected me.

"How did you die?" he asked sharply. I shrugged. "Do you remember anything about being alive?"

"Francis." Arthur stepped between us. "He did not come here to be interrogated."

"Then why did he come here?"

Arthur and Francis looked at me expectantly. My eyes flickered back and forth before settling on just Arthur. I then realized his face clean and his hair was wet and messy. He must have just showered. That's so not fair. I licked my lips.

"We're… ch-changing…" I touched a hand to my heart. The men's eyes followed my hand. Then, I pointed at my head. "Dr…dreaming…"

"Dreaming?" Arthur repeated. I nodded. Again, I nodded. Francis, however, didn't look as excited. "You said 'we'. Did you mean _other_ zombies too? They're becoming like you?"

"Y-yes… Waiting o-outside city…"

Mentally, I congratulated myself for how much I was able to say in one go. I'd probably hit 100 words by now. Francis and Arthur, though, ignored my little internal party. They seemed upset, actually. Did I do something wrong?

"We have to tell your brother," Francis said sternly.

"Why? He'll shoot A on the spot." Arthur shook his head. "No, we have to reason with others."

"Others? Like the other soldiers?" Arthur nodded. "That won't work, either. You're just his little brother. They won't listen to you."

"Maybe they will," Arthur tried, sounding less sure.

"C-could I try…?" I asked, catching the pair off guard.

"A, I don't…" Arthur started.

"Want to…help." I straightened my back in an attempt to look more alive. It must have worked because Arthur smiled at me in the oddest of ways. His eyes were relaxed and he almost looked sleepy.

"Well, even if we were to talk to Scott or any of the soldiers, it has to wait until morning," Francis cut in.

"Right. Curfew." Arthur sighed. That smile was gone. "Well then, should we turn in for the night?"

Francis then smiled until his teeth showed. "Actually, why don't we clean A up?"

Arthur seemed to be considering this as he looked me over. My back curved again as I wilted under his stare. Why did I need to be cleaned up? Okay, so maybe dried blood on my face, pasty complexion, ratty hair, and stench of death was a give-away that I was a zombie, but I didn't look that bad, did I?"

Arthur gave me detailed instructions on how to shower (lather, rinse, repeat), and then shoved me into the bathroom. The shower confused the fuck out of me. I fiddled with the two knobs and learned turning too far with the left knob was scalding hot, while turning too far on the right knob was freezing cold. I eventually settled on both at the same time. Then, I just stood there to let the water travel down my body. The rivulets gradually turned from pink to clear as the dried blood washed off of me. To be honest, I hadn't look at myself in…ever. Being dead you don't have to wash or even take a piss, so any skin under clothes was a surprise.

I must have been fit at some point. I had some flab around the middle. I was shocked I had hair on my legs like my arms, but I even had some starting around my naval and gathering around my, er… Okay, that poor thing hasn't been used in some time. A good chunk of the time in the shower was spent looking at my dick. I know, weird and all that, but when you're dead you don't think about reproducing or pleasuring yourself. Hell, you don't think, period. So, for me, this was new and interesting.

Eventually, Arthur yelled at my wasting water and I was forced out by his shouts. Francis let me borrow some of his clothes, but we soon realized I was too big for them. The pants were incredibly tight around my crotch. Arthur soon handed me some outfits from Scott's wardrobe. The man had a build that was more like mine. I pulled a white shirt on and then put on my jacket. The jeans were in a much better shape than my old rags.

After I fiddled with my hair some, I came back out into the bedroom. Arthur and Francis seemed to be discussing something that was upsetting Arthur. I didn't like it when his eyebrows were furrowed. It made his face look too weird and dark. But, when I walked in and they noticed me, the pair quieted. Arthur's expression changed. He wasn't happy, but he wasn't upset anymore either. He actually looked surprised.

"Wow!" Francis exclaimed. He gave me a once over, impressed by what he saw. "You're hot!"

If I had blood flowing in me, I'd probably blush. I couldn't even offer a smile that didn't look creepy. So, I just kept my eyes trained on Arthur. He continued to stare until he realized it. With an embarrassed cough, he averted his eyes.

"Yes, you clean up quite nicely. Now, shall we turn in?" Arthur suggested.

"Ah, but I cannot get home. The curfew." Francis looked at Arthur for help.

Arthur sighed irritably. "Fine. You can have the floor."

"Really." Francis sighed as if let down. "There are two other beds I could-"

"Don't you start too," Arthur snapped. His voice sounded as vicious as when we had first met. "Everyone else gets on me about those beds. They are not to be used, do you understand?"

"Arthur," Francis started with a softer tone. "You can't…"

"I can _do_ whatever _I_ want."

Arthur reminded me of some kind of caged animal I'd once seen in my comics. It was a little unnerving, especially since I was clueless as to what the beds meant. I looked at them, and realized from my memories what they were; Emma's and Rhye's. I quickly looked at the teapot. Just behind it, almost hidden from view, was a picture frame with Arthur's mother in it. It was her teapot.

"Now, if you're going to be such a hassle, just take my bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

"And A…?" Francis looked at me nervously. I simply stared back, amazed they had remembered me.

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Francis. "He's fine. He has been the entire time he's been here. He can sleep on the floor as well."

"Is he hungry?" I wasn't sure if he meant me, seeing as he was looking at me, but didn't say my name. Regardless, I shook my head. "When did you last eat?"

"Francis!" Arthur took my hand and pulled my behind him. "That is too bold. If you continue these ridiculous questions, you may sleep in the hallway."

Francis held his hands up and backed away. "Forgive me. Let's sleep."

"Yes. Let's."

I think I might have actually learned something today. When in Arthur's world, he's quite demanding. He already was, a little, but he soon eased up with me when it was just us. Actually, he's quite kind and gentle and even a little shy around me. Was it because I was a zombie? Was he still not comfortable with me? Slowly, I rubbed at my arms as if they were cold again. Maybe I was. The thought of Arthur distrusting me wasn't exactly a warm thought.

Arthur pulled a few clothes from his armoire and tossed them onto the floor. He folded a few and left them, whereas others he layered them until they created a blanket. I stood off to the side, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, watching. I did that a lot here. It was getting old. M was waiting.

"Come on," Arthur said gently. He gestured to the makeshift bed on the floor. The clothed he had folded were to be pillows. "Well?"

I sat down quickly. Francis was watching from the bed. Arthur took a seat next to me, and then lied down. I followed suit. There wasn't much else I could do otherwise.

Arthur had been beside me in the plane, but at a distance. It was safe for him. Now we were close. Maybe too close for Arthur's comfort. Sure, he had hugged me and hadn't turned me in and even admitted to missing me, but… He still left. He ran. I came back for him. How did he feel? Was he still mad? Did he just let me in because it was easier than killing me?

I don't know why my self-esteem was so low suddenly. I didn't know I even _had_ self-esteem. I guess it's not all bad. Arthur did seem happy to see me. He didn't turn me away. I even got a hug out of it.

"A," Arthur murmured close beside me. Wow, that was damn close. "I'm… I'm sorry for leaving… I… I think I knew all this time… about you and Rhye… Is that how you…knew my name?"

I nodded. "Memories… I can…see them…"

"I'd always heard that could happen, but it was just a rumor." Arthur shifted beside me. I dared not turn to look at me. I think he was right next to me. If I turned, I'd be on top of him. "So… you saw everything? My childhood, my sister, and how it all…?"

I nodded. I wanted to tell him about Rhye's talking to me, but I think he'd really flip out over that. Perhaps that was best saved for another time.

"A…?" I grunted a soft reply. "I… I'm happy to…see you again."

Slowly, as if just waking up from a nap, my hand twitched, and I placed it on top of Arthur's. "Me too…"

There wasn't much left to say, so we fell asleep.

* * *

Francis woke us with a start. Amazingly, I had slept again, although it was without dreams. Who needed dreams when you woke up next to a blond cutie that was snuggled up to your arm? Wait, cutie? Snuggled?

Yeah, all right. He is pretty cute. Very cute. Adorable, actually. And when he opened his eyes in alarm at Francis throwing a pillow on us, he was beautiful. That snuggling, though, caught me off guard. Had Arthur done that while we slept?

"Francis!" Arthur hissed, ignoring how close we'd been. " _What_ was that for?!"

The man simply smiled and held up two small containers. "We need to make A look human, and I found Emma's old make-up!"

"You bastard!" Arthur scrambled up. I was slower to react. "Who told you-"

"When were you going to use it?" Francis interrupted, not baking down as Arthur charged him. "Emma is dead, and A will be too if we don't put some color in his cheeks. We have to if he's to see Scott."

Arthur was silent. Having finally gotten up, I hovered nearby. Again, they talked about me as if I wasn't there, and with how vocal I was, it was understandable. I really should get better at this. Arthur was having a hard time. I should help.

"Arthur…" The man looked at me. There was sadness in his eyes. "She… loved you… S-so did… Rhye."

I put a hand on my heart. There was a soft beating underneath it. Francis looked between us. I was hoping Arthur understood me, but I might have made it worse.

"Arthur," I tried again. "F-focus on…living… S-stay together… You and me…"

Arthur stared at me, weighing my words. It seemed he was at a loss. I started moving forward, barely moving my feet. I wanted to touch him. But then, Arthur nodded and gave me a strong smile.

"You're right. You must look presentable." He snatched the containers from Francis' hands. "Well then, let's get started."

"Okay, for the record, I had no idea what make-up was until I was forced down into a chair and they put it on me. It was a flurry of brushes and powder and Francis speaking French as he pushed Arthur aside to take control. Arthur stayed away, watching me in case Francis did anything. I don't know why these two fought so much. Francis was a pretty cool guy. I mean, his breath smelled and he touched me a lot, but I didn't mind. I'm sure my breath was beyond rancid, anyway. At least the shower got rid of the zombie stink.

Suddenly, it hit me. I was still dead. I had been with Arthur for so long, and amongst the living, that it sort of slipped my mind. Too many other things were taking up space. Feelings. Attraction. Thoughts. _Thoughts_. I'd thought before, but it was mainly about food or how weird I was. Now it was about us changing, Arthur, Rhye's memories, talking to Scott, and figuring out exactly what was happening. All because of Arthur.

I was so engrossed (shit, even my vocabulary was improving) by this that I didn't even realize we were moving outside. People were stirring, and yet the sun was barely up. Most didn't do anything. They looked around as if waiting for something to happen. No one knew what it is they even wanted. Arthur knew. He held my hand as he slinked in and around people heading in a particular direction. Francis stayed close to our side, having decided that this would be fun.

Going back outside _wasn't_ fun. I kept my head low and my jacket on tight around me. It had rained overnight, and the ground smelled of mud and grime. I wrinkled my nose. Did it always smell like this when it rained? Did I never notice before? Actually, since coming into the city, I had only noticed Arthur's scent. I was so attuned to it. Briefly, I wondered what I smelled like.

People meandered in groups outside of buildings and trash cans, staring just to stare; existing just because. Was this living? Am I better off just as I am? The squeeze on my hand from Arthur was my answer.

He looked over his shoulder at me. "We stay together."

I nodded, feeling light-headed. I think I was growing scared at the upcoming conversation between me and Scott. We were heading into a heavily armed area. One in-human move and I could be killed. One shot to the head. That's all it took. I'd be one more person taken from Arthur's life.

"A-Arthur," I started, feeling a surge of affection.

He shushed me as we reached the front guard. "I need to see my brother."

The man looked at me, narrowing his eyes. "Who's that?"

"He's with me," Arthur replied.

"I didn't ask that. I asked-"

"He's of no concern," Arthur shot back. I imagined his eyes turned that venomous green color, like they do when he gets mad. "I need to see my brother. _Now_."

The man glanced from me to Francis, and then back to me. He stepped aside. Arthur tugged me inside. As we passed the man, I had to say something human just to wipe that suspicious look off of his face."

"Hey, how are ya?" _Nailed it!_ The man was surprised. Take that!

The inside of the armory, which looked like an old supermarket, was packed with people and weaponry. It was an entirely different world in here. The soldiers moved with precision, much unlike the humans outside. Their eyes were steeled, void of emotion. These people were worse than those outside. They only moved as it they had purpose, but it was fake. I moved in closer to Arthur.

"Wait," Arthur said. He stopped and turned to me. "Stay here with Francis. Let me talk to Scott first. He might listen to me."

Francis pressed in close to my side. "I'll be here with him."

The moment Arthur pulled away I felt cold again. My chest swelled up as if in pain. Arthur kept eye contact with me a moment longer before he turned away. Francis then ushered me behind a shelving unit full of ammunition. We could see the back of Arthur as he walked up to the same redhead I saw in my memories. He and Arthur certainly shared the same glare, although I don't know why Scott was already so angry upon seeing his brother. Arthur certainly wasn't someone I would ever be upset to see.

"Scott," Arthur started. "We have to talk."

"Make it quick. We've got a gathering of zombies on the border and a large group of bonnets heading our way." Scott signed some paperwork that had been thrust in his face.

"What? Why?"

"We don't know, but we're gonna head them off. Kill them all before they get here."

"Wait, Scott. I think we shouldn't kill the zombies."

The man paused to regard Arthur. "And why's that?"

"Because… I think they're starting to change. I think they can remember. They're learning to be human again."

Scott stared at Arthur, his expression unchanged. Then, he crossed his arms and looked down on Arthur. "And you're privy to this how?"

"When I was out I… I wasn't taken in by some rogue human… It was by a zombie." Scott didn't react. "He's different. He thinks and talks and dreams. He…"

"Is a killer," Scott spat. "He has eaten many of your friends! Maybe even our family!"

"He _did_ admit to eating Rhye!" Arthur yelled. His voice echoed in the market, but attracted very little attention. The soldiers remained oblivious. Arthur flung an arm out toward them. "He's not like these- these… drones! He feels remorse!"

"And how do you know this?" Scott was starting to lean over Arthur. His face grew dark. Even I could feel the glare of his piercing eyes. "Did he tell you this?"

I felt a hard punch to my gut. Arthur had taken a step back. I could smell the fear of his brother. There had to be something I could do. Francis put a hand on my shoulder, but I brushed it aside. I rushed to Arthur's side, puffing my chest up as if to prove anything.

Scott leaned away, nostrils flaring as if he could smell the death on me. His eyes, somehow, got even smaller. Before I could open my mouth, he pulled a gun on me, pressing it to the underside of my jaw. His voice was a low growl as he threatened, "You're a dead?"

"Scott, please!" Arthur pleaded.

"You think you're something?" If Scott was some kind of animal, he might've bared his teeth at me. Actually, his expression and dark eyes made me think of a boney. "You're dead, so you should stay dead."

Arthur tried to wedge between us. "Scott, _listen_ to me! He's different!"

"No he is not!" Scott pushed the gun harder into my jaw. I gulped, but felt my throat go dry. "He has now become a problem. You're why the zombies are massing and why the boneys are charging. If I kill you, then they'll go away."

Arthur said Scott's name again, but it was the sound of the gun clicking that I heard last. I closed my eyes and waited for death, although my entirety shook and I felt dread slip down my neck. Even if Scott said I was dead and even if I still believed it, I didn't want to die. I may not _do_ human things or act like a human, but… I was still…

There was nothing. I opened my eyes to see what happened. The click wasn't from Scott's gun. It was Francis'. He stood behind Scott with his hand gun pointed at Scott's head.

"Francis," Scott started. "Don't even…"

"Think? I have, and I know that Arthur isn't lying. He _feels_ this is right, and so do I. But you don't anymore, do you?" Francis looked over Scott's shoulder at me and Arthur. "Take him."

"You wouldn't shoot me," Scott whispered.

"I would."

Arthur then took my hand. I was yanked away with Scott still bearing down on me. So as not make a scene, Arthur power-walked out with me at his heels. He had a hard grip on my hand that jumbled all of my fingers together. Even if I wanted to pull away, which I didn't, I knew I couldn't.

We made it outside without incident. I tugged on Arthur's hand. "Come w-with me. Know where to go."

Wow, that was a nice sentence. My inner celebration was short lived. Sires began blaring and floor lights turned on from overhead. The people that had been milling around before were now frantically rushing into any nearby open building. Just like in my comic books, people ran when chaos broke out. So was the hero and who was the villain? I had a sinking feeling we were the bad guys.

"This way," I mumbled. Now I was the one pulling Arthur along.

In Rhye's memories I often saw him sneaking down into the subway, up a stalled escalator, through an emergency exit, down a corridor, and into the baseball stadium nearby. That is where I had told M to wait. I followed the same path like a treasure map. Arthur's breathing and hand gripping mine was a constant reassurance he was still by my side.

"A, where are we going?" Arthur asked, slightly short of breath.

"To… friend."

We slowed once we reached the stadium. It was an indoor one with a dome that was currently closed. The Astro-turf was a faded brown and ripped and smelled stale. The air inside was humid. It stuck to our skin, weighing us down. However, neither of us noticed. We were drawn to the cluster of zombies in the center of the field near second base. There were now at least one hundred zombies that had light returning to their eyes, that stared at Arthur in fascination rather than hunger.

There, up front and center was M. He took a few steps towards me. I could see a faint trace of blue or purple in his eyes. "Made it… B-brought some…f-friends."

I nodded with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Boneys coming. Humans too."

M nodded and cracked a smile of his own. Did I look like that? I don't look half bad, then. "Keep him s-safe…"

Arthur looked surprised to see so many eyes staring. We had yet to let go of each other's hands. The zombies were fixated on our joined hands. I guess no one worried about the oncoming offenses coming from two sides. Well, I wasn't. Not for my sake. Just Arthur's.

Arthur turned his attention to me. He seemed scared enough for all of us. "You! Don't… Don't worry about me. Just don't get shot, all right? I'll deal with my brother."

I nodded, taking Arthur's other hand in mine. "Together."

There was a resounding _thud_ from the dome overhead. The noise alerted the zombies who turned their pale faces up towards the roof. M, however, put a hand on my shoulder. I think he liked contact now. Who wouldn't? Arthur was so warm. He energized me.

"Go," M stated with more force than I've ever heard from him.

From behind, we heard gunshots. The soldiers were here. And I was their number one target. Arthur was the boney's target. I guess we were the bad guys after all. Well, I wouldn't be for Arthur.

This new surge powered my arms and legs as I ran with Arthur. My dusty lungs squeezed for air as they began working overdrive. I no longer stumbled about awkwardly, but rather with precise strides while pumping my arms. I could keep pace with Arthur.

We were looking for somewhere safe like one of the suites or even one of the vendor's kitchens. There would be plenty of weapons in a kitchen. But we were caught by two boneys while running in the hallway.

One slammed me to a wall with surprising force while the other went after Arthur. I was unable to slip free and help Arthur. The boney had me by my jacket. He began to rip at the sleeves. At the sound of the first seam popping, I pushed all of my weight against the boney. Nearby was a fire extinguisher. I reached for it, but the boney was faster.

This time I managed to squirm out of my jacket. The boney tossed it aside and came for me again. AS soon as I could feel the cool handle of the extinguisher in my hand, I swung it around to slam into the boney's face. I grimaced at the sickening crunch of its skull breaking.

Quickly, I searched for Arthur. He was unharmed having thrown the boney into a door and then crushed its head between the door and frame. He looked at me.

"Are you…?" I started. Would a bite from a boney have the same effect?

"I'm fine," Arthur replied firmly. "We need to get higher."

I followed his lead as we ran up a winding walkway. I glanced out at the field. The soldiers were encroaching on the zombies. I could see the boneys were filing in from a broken emergency exit. The soldiers came in from the outfield like we had.

"A!" Arthur shouted. I skidded to a halt, not even realizing Arthur had stopped. "Look!"

He was pointing at the fighting. I didn't see anything different from when I looked a moment ago. Then, M rushed towards the soldiers. He flung a boney before them. The soldiers took that as a chance to fire on it, leaving M unharmed as he returned to the fray.

Arthur turned to me just as confused when he screamed my name. I felt a hard shove on my back, and then I hit the floor. Oh, wait. I didn't have my jacket. Where was it? Shit, uh, not a good time to get distracted.

The boney hissed in my ear, and leapt up off of me for Arthur. I grabbed its foot just as it did and hurled it the opposite way. He banged into a food cart, but started to get back up. I was faster.

Arthur and I ran upwards again. The sounds of the fighting down below echoed all about the enclosed stadium. I hoped M was all right.

The suites were locked, and even my slamming into the doors was of no use. Arthur and I were growing tired. It was only a matter of time before we were caught, either by boneys or humans. It sucked to be caught between like this where neither of us fit on either side. I wasn't quite alive or dead, and neither was Arthur. He, unlike his brothers, had stopped the bleeding long ago.

_Learn to say good-bye._

"N-no…" Arthur looked at me. "No good-byes. Stay safe. Stay with me."

"A…"

There came a gunshot down the hallway. That sounded too close. We raced around the other corner, but came upon a mass of noneys. I'd say they looked hungry or angry, but they weren't zombies or humans. They weren't really anything. I'd call them sad or pathetic, but I don't think I know pity well enough yet.

"This way!" Arthur yelled. He ran towards the emergency exit.

When he moved, I moved. When I moved, the boneys moved. Arthur threw open the door to the outside. I was temporarily blinded by the early morning sunlight. Arthur caught me just before I fell out the door. It was a fire escape that had been partly destroyed. The remains of the actual exit lay in a pile down below by a large fountain.

We didn't have much time to do much else. We only thought, the same one that started all of his, was Arthur. He was here, in my arms, and he would stay there. I'd make sure of it.

I enveloped him in my arms and leaned out the door. The hands and teeth of the boneys quickly faded from view as we fell. I only had seconds as the ground rushed towards us. I moved in the air so Arthur was atop me and my back was to the ground. I'd take the full force.

There was cool water and then darkness. I heard voices. An unfamiliar voice said a name. Mine? They held my hand and pat my head. Mother?

I was pulled back to the light, gasping for air. The water was cold, but I was not. I was warm. I was _still here_. I was always still here. My heart may have almost collapsed into nothing, but my soul was still the same.

I never died.

"A!" Arthur called. He hugged me. His hair was a wet mop on his head. I heard him laugh into my shoulder. "Oh hell, A! Don't ever do that again! You scared me!"

I pulled away, taking Arthur's face into my hands, and look at him. Looked at his entirety. He was two, seven, ten, eighteen, twenty-three. He was all of Arthur. He could never die.

In a sudden rush of emotion, Arthur leaned in and I followed his lead. I closed my eyes as if by memory. The feel of Arthur's lips upon mine was no stolen memory. This was him and real and _live_. I opened my mouth in hopes of gaining more, and Arthur granted me it.

He was warm like a fire, electric like lightening, soft, and he was here. We were safe. We were together.

I'd never felt more alive.

He pulled away from my lips, smiling. He gasped as he touched my cheek. "A… Your eyes… They're so… _blue_. And beautiful…"

I smiled widely, staring into his eyes.

And then I got shot in the shoulder. Arthur and I pulled apart violently. Arthur turned sharply to see Scott aiming his gun at me. A few soldiers flanked his side.

"Next one goes for the head," Scott warned. "Arthur, come here now."

"No."

"Arthur! We've already lost mum, dad, Emma, and Rhye to these _things_! I won't lose you too!"

"But A just saved me! He has always saved me!" Arthur turned to regard me. "He… He's _bleeding_."

Oh, well, what do you know? There was a thick and warm trail of blood coming from my new wound and contaminating the fountain. A sharp pain consumed me. While Arthur repeated himself with rising excitement, I gasped in pain. Fuck, getting shot _sucks_.

Well, I mean, at least I wasn't exaggerating. I really _did_ feel alive now. Life is painful.

Scott was still watching me, but his stare was less intense. The soldiers at his sides lowered their weapons to gawk at me. I was still bleeding, waiting for Scott to do the same.

Then, Scott pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Captain, you said the zombies were fighting the boneys?"

There was a static buzz, and then a gruff voice replied, "Yes sir. None of the zombies are attacking us. Some have even saved us. They're…different."

Scott lowered his gun finally. He was looking at Arthur now. Pressing his button, he said to the captain, "The situation has changed."

* * *

It is summer. I'm sitting on a hill overlooking the city. A basket of applies is by my side. Arthur is on the other. He is finishing up repairing my leather jacket that Francis had found for me when he went to the stadium. After Scott believed us (and someone stopped my bleeding), the boneys were easily dealt with. Humans and zombies teaming up. Sounds crazy, but it works. The boneys that escaped went back to the airport. I can only hope they died there. From what M told me, all the zombies had left. They had moved on. Memories came back easier for them. Some wandered off to remember a life they forgot, while others stayed with humans.

It was scary at first, like all new things, but it got better. The humans learned to live again by showing zombies how. They taught them to play games, cook meals, dress and bathe, tell jokes, dance, and sing. In turn, the humans remembered too. It was as if humanity had a collective case of amnesia. Love and living had been nearly forgotten.

In the case of boneys, it could never come back. The absence of love creates anger and fear and hate. It spoils a heart. Without hope there is no will. Without will, there is no change.

Change meant good-bye, but not always to the people you love. IT could be to the way you once were and how you lived. I could easily say farewell to that me and that life it it meant seeing, touching, holding, kissing, loving, and living with Arthur. I'm glad I did.

"A?" Arthur starts. "Do you remember your name or your past life?"

"No."

"Nothing?" Arthur looks over.

"Nope. But that's okay. I don't mind."

"Why?"

"Because I like this one. I like being here, in this life."

Arthur's face is red. I smile. He is cute. I pull him close to my side. He kisses my cheek.

In the distance, a large wall crumbles. A loud roar of celebration is heart. I know M, who now goes by the name of Matthew, is there. He has quickly integrated into human life. I am glad he is my friend.

"Arthur, I love you."

Arthur's hand is on mine. His head rests on my shoulder. "I love you, too."

I am warm with happiness.

* * *

* * *

 _Hoshiko2_ 's cents: WOO! Sorry this was so overdue, and also so long in comparison to the previous chapters. However, the movie _Warm Bodies_ just came out on DVD/Blu-Ray (whatever), so I wanted to get this up in case anyone rents it and watches. I hope you all enjoyed this, but I HIGHLY suggest you read the book and then see the movie (or vice versa). It's a beautiful and amazing story.

Also, I have a joint account open on FFNet called Love Cocoon with a new series up called "Find/Replace, and Listen to Me". It's an e-mail AU. Please check it out if you have the time! Thanks!


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